Primeval Sanctuary: Quite The Enigma
by DrMagnus1850
Summary: Helen & Will are investigating anomalous energy readings at an abandoned warehouse when the discover something; something which could, unbeknownst to them, be larger and more dangerous than anything they have encountered before. To make matters worse, they are not alone... (The beginning to a crossover arc I would like to write - whether I continue depends on reviews) Enjoy! :)


THE ENIGMA APPEARS...

"Magnus!" The horrified screams of Dr. Will Zimmerman, psychiatrist, resounded through the car.

The driver honoured him with no response.

Will looked on in dismay, hardly daring to blink as his employer, mentor, and apparent destroyer floored the accelerator, the Cadillac swerving maniacally from the line of bewildered traffic to a chorus of car horns and generously shared expletives. Screeching to a halt in the very centre of a deserted, industrial estate car park – which Dr. Zimmerman rather believed to be private property, though did not bother to voice his protestations – the understandably shaken psychiatrist breathed a deep, melodramatic breath, thanking whichever deity had preserved him.

"Honestly." The driver's soft, British voice accent uttered the word with impeccable pronunciation. "Some people really should not be allowed to drive!"

Will turned his head, unable to process the hypocrisy, and fixed the woman with a hard stare.

She did not notice. Instead, Dr. Helen Magnus, physician, surgeon, teratologist, cryptozoologist and half vampire, climbed hurriedly from the vehicle. She slammed the door, causing her long suffering protégé to jump.

"Quite the enigma."

There was that perfect, Victorian enunciation which, on occasion, grew inexplicably tiresome. Joining his maverick leader at the reverse of the stationary vehicle, Will craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the tablet she grasped.

"Isn't that was you say when you haven't a clue what we're dealing with?"

Dr. Magnus fought the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He was good company, the young psychiatrist, and terribly amusing – though she would never tell him so much. Helen fixed her gaze on the flickering screen of the tablet. Every few seconds the image distorted, pixels swirling in kaleidoscope of befuddlement, edging closer to the top right of the screen before settling, temporarily, in an _almost_ normal arrangement.

"_What_ could possibly be causing this distortion?"

The question was not aimed specifically at Will (though the pair were quite alone) but he answered nonetheless, with an unnecessarily dramatic shrug.

"Who knows? No, no... Who cares? You what I do know? We're standing in the middle of, you know... _hell_, looking at... _something_. It's just a bad iPad, buy a new one. Heck, you're loaded, by me one as well! Meanwhile, I'm probably catching pneumonia, and-"

Helen rather sensed his intent was to continue, and held the tablet up for him to see.

"It's far more than a computer malfunction, Will, trust me. Or, trust Henry. He was the one who brought the anomalous readings to my attention. Besides, this particular fluctuation has only revealed itself since we have come into close proximity to... _hell_." She gestured loosely at the towering warehouse; a conglomerate of metal and rust that served only to provide a horrid stain on the landscape.

Drawing the Colt Commander from her waistband, Dr. Magnus edged without trepidation toward the building's entrance, noting the broken glass panes which constituted the majority of the door itself. Entering should, most assuredly, pose no problem.

Accepting defeat, Will Zimmerman shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket and trudged behind her, muttering: "Yeah, s'okay for you... probably got some kinda funky vampire power that lets you control your own body temperature. Us _humans_ find the cold a little less comfortable."

"You know very well my 'funky vampire powers' include longevity and-" she could not resist turning briefly to meet his dejected gaze. "Heightened intelligence. And nothing more." Well, that was _mostly_ true.

Without awaiting response, Helen Magnus turned her head and slammed the hilt of her firearm into the already splintering glass. The pane crumbled, disintegrating to a glistening mound on the inside of the building. The investigators stepped with relative ease over the broken glass and into the gloom of the warehouse, unable to see a metre into the darkness.

Will produced a flashlight, permitting a faint light to trickle from the doorway and illuminate the rancid building; the pair grimaced, each silently deciding that the ignorance of darkness was preferable.

"Okay. I know I'm gonna regret asking this, but is that what I think it is?" Will gestured to a questionable heap of _something_ in the centre of the room. It seemed as though this... substance, was the unforgiving odour's point of origin.

Helen, having the good sense to cover her nose _before_ speaking, mumbled into her sleeve: "Faeces. And recent, judging by the scent."

She looked systematically about the room; paint was peeling from the walls, portions of ceiling tile littered the ground. The floor itself was barely visible through the mountain of miscellaneous rubbish, and excrement.

Will looked as though he was considering speaking, but unsure whether what he had to say was worth another assault from that pungent aroma. What he was probably thinking of saying, Helen mused silently, was along the lines of: _'What is it with you and faeces? One word: Basilisk!'_ Imaginary Will had a point, she had to admit, and her words upon seeing the basilisk dung were rather appropriate one this occasion also.

"Will, whatever creature... _made_ this is obvious _quite_ large." Although how it entered the room was anyone's guess... Or maybe not. "There!" Helen gestured to the back of the lobby, and Will directed the light to the corner. "A door." At least, it had been a door once.

Without taking a moment to second guess herself – something Dr. Magnus was not prone to – she stepped toward the only other conceivable exit from the room. The 'door' lay in splinters on the ground, as though something of impressive physique had charged it with unnecessary force.

"Well, it's not a basilisk. That's the good news."

Will didn't have a chance to ask her how she knew this.

"If it were, it should have incinerated the door. The basilisk relies on its acidic saliva, thus it lacks brute strength."

Will risked the smell. "And the bad?"

Helen sniffed indignantly. _Apparently,_ her companion did not find the inner workings of the basilisk psyche as fascinating as she. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the building.

"Whatever did break the door down is still here."

She moved further into the darkness without awaiting a response. The tablet screen was swirling ferociously – the cause of this anomaly, whatever it may be, was obviously nearby. Of course, Helen had expected something of a technological persuasion; a mad scientist, Adam Worth; something manageable. She had not expected an abnormal. If she had, she would have brought a sonic stunner, not just a tranquiliser loaded sidearm.

Something ceramic shattered nearby, a low growl following the sound. Helen paused, raising a finger to her lips – one could never be sure when Will Zimmerman thought it appropriate to speak. It did not have the desired effect.

"Magnus!" He hissed. "We'll come back. It sounds-" He was going to say that it sounded 'big,' a description which would not have impressed his employer, but Will never had chance to utter his concerns.

A roar echoed through the warehouse, and Helen darted into the gloom after it. It was close, this creature, and she had no intention of letting it slip away. Silence. She paused momentarily, inadvertently providing the time for Will to catch up, the unsteady torchlight revealed that the foul smelling, crumbling lobby had disappeared, and the pair now found themselves in a rather large, somewhat foreboding stockroom. Towering metal shelves, most empty, stretched in each direction, eventually fading into the gloom as the torchlight failed to reach them.

Helen could hear her protégé sniffing, and detected the subtle movement of him covering his nose once again. He was right, the smell had worsened; the creature was close.

She checked the tablet, the screen now unreadable. Was it possible the creature was attracted to the same, _whatever it was,_ that the Sanctuary scanners had brought to her attention? The clang of something hitting metal and responding roar told Helen that this was as good a hypothesis as any. She held the tablet flat on her palm, the pixels swirling malevolently in the bottom left corner, the same direction the roar had emanated from.

"This way!" She hissed, ignoring the sigh of dismay and sprinting into the gloom.

The roar sounded again, this time it was marginally further away. The creature was moving.

"Cover your torch."

"What!" What could be worse than chasing some huge, unknown abnormal in a deserted warehouse? Doing so in the dark!

"Just, cover it a bit, the light is making him nervous."

"Well, the dark makes me nervous!" Nevertheless, he did as she asked, shoving the torch under his T-Shirt. The concentrated beam of white light dulled to a faint glow, illuminating less than a few metres in any direction. Will fought the urge to raise a finger and croak: _'Phone home.'_

Silence reigned for a few, long seconds; their practiced, stealthy footsteps seemed to echo through the foreboding space. The only sound more prominent, or course, was Dr. Zimmerman's heavy breathing. At least, it was heavy compared to that of his partially vampiric partner.

Helen came to an abrupt stop, raising the seriously befuddled tablet in place of a closed fist. The pixels had ceased to be individual squares and now gathered as a single, pulsating blob of virtual slime in one corner of the screen – whatever the cause of this strange behaviour, they were practically right on top of it. Passing the tablet to her companion, Helen took a deep, silent breath and readjusted her grip on the firearm.

She was stalling, and she knew it. This was ridiculous! She was Helen Magnus: cutting edge scientist, vampire (ish), and monster hunter supreme. Nothing scared her... So why, all of a sudden, did she feel a cold dread slithering in the very pit of her stomach?

Sealing the doubt away, she stepped around a towering metal unit. A few boxes littered the dirty shelves, inconveniently obstructing her view of the enigma – whatever it might be. She was 160 years old, for pity sake, what could possibly be around this corner that she had not seen before? Rounding the shelves, she gasped, wishing with all of her vast, superhuman mind, that she had not given that bad karma inducing question any consideration.

"What in Heaven's name?"

Of course, there was nobody to answer her question. Instead, in the space between the two metal units, was... something. A gathering of mirrored shards, it would seem, floating spherically about a half metre from the ground.

Will gasped. "Is that? ... What is that?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

A dusting of gold, incandescent light spilled from the centre of this... _enigma_, illuminating the aisle in its gentle glow. It was almost comforting, Helen mused – _almost_. Irrespective, there was no obvious sign of an abnormal. She cast a judicious eye over the floor and shelves, pausing to glance upward (just in case). Nothing returned her gaze, save for her own reflection. A dozen pairs of her piercing, ice blue eyes staring back, looking upon her from the mirrored shards of the enigma with familiar trepidation.

She was, for a short while, entirely encapsulated within her investigation of the circumstance. It was not often, after so many years, that Helen Magnus encountered something with the capacity to take her breath away.

With a sudden jolt of horror, she realised her young companion was hissing her name.

"_Magnus."_ The terror in his voice sent a rush of ice up her spine.

She froze; facing away from him she had no idea what was the cause of his disquiet – although it seemed fair to assume he had acquired some abnormal related intelligence. Turning, or any sudden movement, could cause this anonymous creature unrest. Instead, she nodded.

"_I think... That something is behind me."_ Will knew his statement was relatively unhelpful, even as the words formed on his lips.

His employer was magnificent, in every way, but she could do little to preserve his existence if she did not know the nature of the peril. Nevertheless, this was as helpful as he could be. A puff of air ruffled the hair at the back of his head, a low snort resounding in the enclosed space. He could hear its breathing, feel it. He had to turn, to see his devourer before it, well, _devoured_ him.

But she knew him too well. "Do. Not. Move." The gentle, authoritative British voice drifted to his ears.

Helen Magnus began to turn, her grip on the weapon unfaltering. She ached to spin, to squeeze the trigger without second thought; but she could not. If the creature was faster, or if the tranquiliser proved ineffective, Will was most surely doomed. She would not risk his safety any more than she had. Eventually, after what seemed an aeon, Will's frozen, tablet bearing arm crept into her peripheral vision. She turned further still, slowly, knowing she had mere seconds to classify the creature and make a decision.

He was watching her; Helen could feel her companion's eyes fixed on the side of her head. He trusted her, believed that she would protect him. For the umpteenth time since he had crossed the path of her car in that dark, damp alleyway three years prior, she promised herself that she would not fail him.

She turned the final inch, and the blood in her veins turned to ice.

It most certainly was not a basilisk, if there had been any doubt in the doctor's mind – which there had not. _Do not show fear._ She chastised herself; the creature was watching her, large, reptilian eyes glinting in the gentle glow of the enigma. More than that, Will was watching her. Any sign of the terror she felt would show on her face, and squash any remnants of hope he still held. Then again, he was a forensic psychologist, and a bloody good one. Vampire or not, one cannot hide the truth from one as observant, as intelligent, as Dr. Will Zimmerman.

The beaked, reptilian snout readjusted its position, level with Will's head. It sorted again, and the psychiatrist failed to resist a sideways glance, though one sight of the gigantic, scaled head rather made him wish otherwise.

Helen watched her protégé as realisation alit his face. It was impossible, this creature. At least, it presence here, _now_, was impossible. Then again, one might believe telepathy, pyrokinesis, a sentient intestine, to be _impossible_. Dr. Magnus knew otherwise. Will had to remain calm. She had to force him to stay still, to stay quiet. If the creature detected his fear, it would likely attack... and they were cornered. She tore her eyes from the lizard's impressive, four metre height, catching her friend's petrified gaze. And smiled. Slightly. A small, reassuring smile. She couldn't promise him everything would be alright – she _wouldn't_, even if speaking aloud were an option. She would never insult his intelligence in that manner. What she could promise, what she tried to convey now, was that things could be worse.

Terror rolled off him in waves; he fought the urge to scream, to run. Instead, without making a sound, he locked eyes with his potential saviour and mouthed: _Help Me!_


End file.
